


The Butterfly Effect

by smaragdbird



Series: Terror Rare Pair Week [5]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, M/M, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 22:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/pseuds/smaragdbird
Summary: Written for the Terror Rare Pair WeekWhat if it had been Hickey and not Gibson who confronted Irving when he caught them?
Relationships: William Gibson/Cornelius Hickey
Series: Terror Rare Pair Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542748
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: The Terror Rarepair Week 2019





	The Butterfly Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Look, they're my otp, I have to keep giving them happy endings

If:

“Who’s there?” Irving calls out and for a heartbeat they stare at each other in the twilight of the storage room. Gibson’s eyes are wide and fearful. He’s the one more dressed and he starts to move but Hickey puts a hand on his chest and shakes his head.

“One moment, Lieutenant Irving”, he calls out, quickly making himself presentable – or as presentable as needed.

“What are you doing here, Mr Hickey?”

Gibson’s heart is beating frantically in his chest. Irving doesn’t like Hickey. 

“I thought I had felt draft here earlier and I’ve been trying to find it”, Hickey lies flawlessly.

Gibson doesn’t dare to move, trying to keep his breath under control. If Irving finds him here, no lie will save them.

“During your leisure time?” Irving sounds sceptical with good reason. Hickey’s not known for being a hard worker or a diligent one.

“Daylight hours, sir, besides, if I’m honest, it’s a bit cold outside.” 

He can hear Hickey turn on the charm. It works on a lot of people, Gibson included. But will it work on Irving?

“Very well, the Captain’s seat of ease has an actual draft. See that you get to it.” 

“Of course, sir.”

Irving’s climbing back up and Gibson dares to release the breath he was holding. Seconds later Hickey appears by his side, looking pleased with himself. He lights a cigarette while Gibson rights his clothes and grabs his jacket.

“Thanks.”

Hickey smiles. “I’ll better go and do that job for the captain.”

/

Then:

“It could lead anywhere.” Hickey’s smiling, giddily, and Gibson realises that he doesn’t know.

“Cornelius, the captain’s a drinker. He’ll use any excuse for a drink if it means he can have one.” Under a different captain the drink could’ve meant what Hickey wants it to mean but not under Crozier.

“Just because he’s Irish – “

“That’s not it”, Gibson interrupts him because Hickey’s Irish and he never drinks as if to dispel the common notion about his people all by himself. “Ask Armitage or Mr Diggle. They’ll tell you the same thing.”

Hickey smiles but it’s the kind of smile that’s like a crutch to keep him from crumbling.

“I’m sorry”, Gibson says because he knows Hickey, he knows the truth hurt him.

“Nothing to be sorry for”, Hickey replies, something hungry in his eyes.

“The drinking makes him unpredictable, Cornelius”, Gibson says because he knows that look. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

/

Then: 

The summer drags on with no leads opening and a feral polar bear stalking their ships. Gibson’s heart of maneaters before, lions and tigers getting a taste for human flesh and starting to prefer it to their usual prey.

Crozier’s mood swings get worse as the year progresses and more and more men use every excuse not to be on Terror. More than a few regret not volunteering for Fairholme’s relief party.

Then the beast starts picking them up on the ship and fear grips everyone’s hearts and minds. For the first time Gibson’s glad he’s a steward, he doesn’t have watch duty.

Hickey does.

“Be careful out there”, he tells him as they’re stealing a moment just before Hickey has to go on deck. 

Out loud Hickey has asked him to fix a hole in one of his gloves. 

In his cabin with the curtain drawn, they’ve been kissing for the last few minutes, Hickey reassuringly alive as he presses Gibson against the wall.

“If it comes, it comes”, Hickey says with a shrug.

“Then shot it first.”

/

Then:  
The Natives cannot help them, the tale spreads around camp fast. Their talk of hunger among their own people, about famine and a lack of game is known to everyone by evening.

“We’ll need to go soon”, Hickey says, the nine of them huddling together. Summer this far north is still cold, still filled with ice and snow. Gibson almost misses Africa.

“And where?” Coombs asks. “The Fort is over 800 miles away.”

“Fury Beach”, DeVoeux says. When everyone looks at him, he continues. “There’ll be caches of food there and the whaling fleet. It’s only 300 miles.”

“Only 300 miles”, Tozer scoffs.

“Still better than what the captain is planning”, Armitage replies with a glare at Tozer, who concedes with a shrug.

“Captain Crozier dismissed this option”, Hodgson interjects. “There was a rumour in London before we left that Fury beach has been plundered.”

“There was also a rumour that Ross and his men were dead”, DeVoeux reminds him.

“If we cannot find food and shelter before winter, we’re dead anyway”, Gibson interrupts their bickering. “It’s Fort Providence or Fury Beach.” He looks at Hickey who looks straight back at him. Gibson knows which choice he’s made and it’s the same as his.

“Then we’ll go to Fury beach”, he says and his word is final.

/

Then:

The whaler that picks them up is the Syren, whose captain seems quite happy to be the one who found the famous Franklin Expedition. He tells them that people in England have begone to worry, but that the admiralty figured everything was fine.

Tozer laughs at the word ‘fine’ and when Gibson looks for him, he sees that Hickey is gone.

He finds him on deck, staring at the waves. The sea’s rough and Hickey hasn’t found his sea legs again. 

Gibson walks up to him, swaying with the rolling of the ship, smelling the salt in the wind. He’s missed this more than he realised.

“Back to England”, Hickey says and sounds weirdly unhappy about it.

“Better than being dead”, Gibson replies. He already knows he won’t stay long. He cannot stand dry land anymore. 

“Yeah”, Hickey says but he doesn’t sound so sure. Gibson’s known other men who went to the sea to escape their demons from the land. 

“My father has been talking about emigrating to Australia”, Gibson tells him now that that dream is within reach once more. “He’s a tailor and he thinks that’s what New South Wales is lacking.”

It’s not much but it gets him the crack of a smile from hickey, one of the genuine ones. By now Gibson knows him well enough to tell the difference. “And you?”

Gibson shrugs. “I think everywhere’s the same, but at least it’ll be warm. You could come, too.”

Hickey throws his head back, grins, shakes his head. Gibson doesn’t know what to make of it until Hickey turns to look at him. “With you?”

“If you want.” 

“Guess I do”, it sounds like it’s a revelation to Hickey himself. “As you said, it’ll be warm. Maybe a good caulker is what Australia needs.”

He smiles at Gibson and feels like a secret just between the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just ignore that the food left on Fury Beach wouldn't have saved anyone from scurvy ;)
> 
> William Gibson's father really did emigrate to Australia - and lost his younger son Alfred to an expedition to the Australian Interior. The Gibson Desert is named after Alfred. This family had the worst luck.


End file.
